Lively Up Yourself
by forginsberg
Summary: Lovely femslash Hermione/Pansy pairing. Pansy is a master of potions, supplying the druggie underground at Hogwarts. A small curiosity concerning the contents of a prim prefect's skirt leads to a whole new world; but what goes up must come down.
1. never mention the word addiction

I leaned my shoulder against a column in the shadow of an overhang, my arms crossed over my chest. All around me was the buzz of students heading this way and that, to meet teachers or meet friends. The time that stretched between the end of classes and the beginning of dinner was full of, in my personal experience, the greatest potential for whatever dirty deeds need to be done. Couples stole away to the boys' dormitory, which I'd discovered ran on a very complex, impressive system that allowed everyone to take care of business without worrying about stray dorm-mates. Of course, my line of work could be handled entirely without ever stepping foot in the boy's dorms, so I'd never had a hands-on lesson in the procedure. Still, I managed to conduct a three-ring circus of debauchery without any information falling into the wrong hands. But today, I wasn't stealing away to disbehave in any way what-so-ever. I was actually captivated by an enforcer, namely the sweetest ass to bear a prefect badge in living memory.

I watched her at a distance with a half-smile at the corner of my mouth. Cute as can be, she was up to her skirt in a thick spellbook, studious as she was oblivious to the relative evils of her fellows. She sat in the grass near the lake, in the shelter of a weeping willow that had lost its leaves and looked skeletal without them. As the long limbs of the tree shook and swayed in the late September breeze, she danced in and out of my sight. From what I could see between, she sat primly upright against the trunk of the tree, her legs tucked under her and her skirt pulled down over her knees. Dark curls hung like a curtain in front of her face as she bent her head to read the volume propped in her lap. She was as still as a statue. I ran a hand through my hair as I straightened, spurred by a desire to insert a little chaos into that pretty picture. I made my way across the student-scattered lawn towards the lakeshore.

She looked up when I brushed the curtain of spindly branches aside and stepped into her quiet circle. A slow smile split my face at her suspicious expression.

"Pansy?" she prompted shortly, looking up at me with a slightly furrowed brow. I dropped down beside her in the grass, stretching out and leaning back on my elbows.

"Granger."

"I'm trying to get in some studying in before dinner, Pansy, I really don't have time--"

"What're you reading?" I interrupted, peering down at the pages of the book she was clutching. She glanced down as well and then frowed at me. I nearly laughed outloud, sitting up and propping my arms on my bent knees. I looked like a slouch in my slacks and sloppily-buttoned white collar shirt, sleeves rolled up and untidy hair to boot sitting next to her creased plaid skirt and sweater vest. Even her tie was still carefully knotted and her socks rolled all the way up to her knees after classes had dismissed. I smirked, studying her for a long, delicious moment and then turning my attention back to her spellbook. "Potions?"

"Yes, Potions. I'm brushing up," she said stiffly. I grinned.

"You know, Granger--if you ever need any special help with potions, I'm something of a whiz." She tossed a rather unsportsmanlike look in my direction; we attended the same NEWT level Potions class and much to her unpleasant surprise, I'd bested her in the first four practical lessons. What she, without a rule-breaking bone in sight about her, couldn't grasp was that I'd discovered a more rewarding reason that good marks for mastering the art of potion-brewing. I kept a steady income and a steady cheerfulness by bottling up euphoria, oblivion--I could whip up any vice your heart might desire, and Muggle 'drugs' were no compare. It was a black market at Hogwarts, mostly operated under Slytherin cloaks, and mostly kept in circulation by me. NEWT Potions was a slice of pie in comparison. I cleared my throat and looked at her seriously.

"You have a tragic flaw." Her lips seemed to get thinner at the mere suggestion of imperfection. A bark of laughter escaped me at the look on her face. Then I shook my head. "You refuse to settle for second best. It's the over-achievers that get cancer and Alzheimers, you know. You'll just wear yourself right out trying to always come out on top."

"Second best to you? I doubt it," she spat and I raised my eyebrows.

"Don't get testy, Granger. I'm trying to help," I said and she glared at me.

"I don't need your help, Pansy, and I certainly don't want your company."

I caught her small chin in my hand and looked into her eyes. She shifted and looked down, her eyelashes dropping delicate shadows across her cheeks. She went to pull away and I tightened my grip until she looked back up in surprise. Then I clicked my tongue and shook my head.

"It's a shame, Granger, 'cause your Potions work is really pretty shoddy. I'm surprised you scraped a NEWT at all, but then you are the school-appointed apple polisher so what would we do without you?" I let her go and she leaned back against the tree-trunk, watching me like an angry cat.

I grinned coldly and stood, brushing a spot of dirt from the elbow of my shirt.

"If you need that extra help, don't hesitate to ask," I said and with one last look at those long, gorgeous legs I turned and left.

Storming back across the lawn towards the entrance hall, I stuffed both fists in my pockets and frowned at my feet. I could feel her under my skin, but I couldn't figure out how she'd gotten there.

A cluster of first years stood on the stairs and I snarled at them as they moved out of my way and I ducked into the cool castle, heading immediantly for the dungeons.

x

I stared into the leaping fire, watching eerie shadows dance across the stone floor in the flickering light. Dinner had been a blur of colors and my brain had settled into a pool of brewed indifference, soggy with outside influence. I was, in essence and totally stoned. The noise in the common room had slowly died, and there were only a few of us left sprawled across the furniture closest to the fireplace. I was vaguely aware of my surroundings, such as the fact that it had gotten pretty late and that there was some sort of dragon-related debate being tossed around in slurred, bad english; but for the most part I was furiously focused on her. I mulled over various aspects of her anatomy, grinding my teeth. I couldn't keep her out of my head, and the longer I thought about it, the more pissed off I became. Chemicals were coursing through my blood, sending it boiling and making me feel reckless. I was swimming in a violent delirium and feeling a bit desperate about drowning.

"Hey, Parkinson!" a loud voice hooked my attention and I reluctantly felt myself flying back towards the source of all the noise. I turned my heavy head and blinked drearily into the sickly green light of the dungeon lair. Draco was studying me. "Did you hear me?"

"I wasn't really listening," I said, pushing myself back up into the seat I'd nearly slouched right out of. I yawned widely, stretching my arms out and then pushing my lazy, lanky body from the uncomfortable armchair, suddenly grounded again but still unsteady on my tired feet. The boys fell back to their banter and I slunk off to bed.

Tugging my shirt over my head and tossing it across my footboard, I dragged a worn-out tee by one sleeve from the vicious laundry tangle inside my trunk and slipped into it, throwing myself down onto my bed. I rested my hands behind my head and let my legs dangle over the edge of the mattress, staring up into the folds of the dark green canopy above the bed. I watched the light from my bedside candle bounce and roll over the rich cloth, at times imagining I could see her eyes staring out at me, until the flame began to burn dim. Slowly, the room got dusky and then dark until all of a sudden I was dreaming.

I was rolling over into her, pressing my forehead into her milky, smooth stomach. I could hear her laughing, feel her ringlets brush against my shoulder, taste her sweet skin. Some brilliant sunlight streamed in over everything, blurring the edges and making me feel blind. She whispered my name, clutched at my hair and everything went a little red, a little sweaty, it all got so confused and the world started tossing and turning and I was full of all this heavy breathing...

My eyes snapped open. I stared into the inky darkness for a minute without blinking and then kicked away the covers and shoved the bed curtains aside, sitting up over the edge of the bed and staring out the window at the giant, hazy moon. My hair was wet with sweat and my hands looked emaciated in the milkly light. Gazing absently down at the grounds, I found that I could see the weeping willow on the shore from where I sat. I clenched my jaw and looked hard at the tree, watched it rocking in the wind.

Then I gripped my head roughly in my hands and squeezed my eyes shut. Flinging myself back onto the bed, I ran my hands down over my face and then let them drop to my sides.

I wanted her. It was alive in my veins, it was pulsing in my ears--I wanted to know the taste of her. I wanted my hands to be full of her curves and her curls and her soft, pale face.

I rolled onto my stomach and pushed my face into a pillow. It was like a wildfire inside of me, I'd been swept away without warning. I'd never had a problem finding girls to occupy my time, but usually they were only present when I wanted them to be. She was everywhere, all the time. She was right beside me, she was in my head, even when she was nowhere near me. I'd never felt anything like it, and I wasn't responding well to the change. I felt awkward in my own skin, like I wasn't even alone there. There wasn't another option--I had to have that girl.

I settled back into the haze, my body slowly melting and my mind drifting away into a static buzz. I dropped off into a haunted sleep, another dream, just her voice saying my name again and again...

A/N: First fic in awhile. Did Pansy and Hermione awhile back, really dug the pair. So I'm doing more than one-shot this time. Longer chapters once I get back into the feel of this.


	2. checkmate

I didn't sleep much. I finally got up and got dressed after what seemed an eternity of laying wide-eyed in the pitch darkness. I slipped through the halls to the common room rather soundlessly and collapsed back into one of the plusher chairs close to the smouldering fireplace.

"Good morning."

The sound of the soft voice made me start violently and whip around in my seat. Draco sat back in the shadows, still and pale in the glow of the dying embers and the green-gray light of the stone walls and floor.

"You're awake," I stated dumbly, my heart easing back from beating in my ears. He nodded and after a moment of silence he stood and came closer, joined me in front of the fireplace and, with a flick of his wand, produced roaring flames that lit the gloomy dungeon with a bit of warm color.

"Chess?" he asked, gesturing to the marble and gold in-lay set on the wide oak coffee table that had been returned to order by some house-elf after the previous night's use. I nodded and leaned forward into the light.

"You look tired," I said, watching his face as he captured one of my pawns. He seemed, if possible, paler; his face was gaunt and dark shadows fell over his eyes.

"There are more important things than sleep. Think of the time you waste," he said in his gentle voice as I prodded a knight forward to capture his bishop and he cursed under his breath. I gave a slight smirk and then leaned back in my chair and studied him.

"Is it true?" I asked him and he raised his eyes to meet mine. They were the color of a snowy sky, and with about as much depth. I flicked my wand to move my own bishop and then looked into the fire.

"Why you?"

"Why not?" he countered, seizing my adventurous bishop. I looked back at him.

"You're not even a fully-qualified wizard yet. What asset are you?" He laughed in a hollow sort of way.

"Asset? The only asset any of us can provide is leverage, for one side or another. We're dispensible, Parkinson--no matter which path you choose, you're just a cog in a machine." I stared down at the chess set, took a threatening knight with my queen and then shoved my fingers through my hair.

"But why fight at all?" I asked, casting aside my regular cool indifference out of genuine worry. As I watched his painfully thin fingers calculating in the air over the board, I knew concern for him. He made his move and then sat back and looked at me.

"If you aren't fighting for something, you're left watching the war. What are you, anyway, but the things that you stand for?" He looked into my eyes and smiled. "Checkmate."

I dropped my gaze to the game and swore.

x

Through breakfast I was nearly too absorbed in brooding over Draco's unfolding tragedy to take much notice to take notice of Granger, though I did catch her eye half-way through and caused her to blush and drop a bit of porridge in her lap when we made eye contact. It was enough to make me smile.

During morning break, I lounged on the courtyard steps with Draco and Blaise, and while they carried on a pretty heated discussion, my eyes flicked across all the grounds I could see for that mane of curls. I seemed powerless to stop it. At least three times I caught myself looking for her and jerked back to the conversation, only to drift away again almost immediately.

Draco earned my full attention when he suggested we retire to the common room and peruse my potions collection before next class.

I'd experimented mixing a simple Calming Draught with Euphoria Elixir to produce a giddy, floating sensation that we all enjoyed, tripping out onto the lawn and laying down on our backs in the grass, laughing and imagining we were all floating along on the clouds. The sun was bizzarely bright, and distorted everything I saw until Draco sat up straight and looked at me very seriously. Blaise seemed to have wandered off towards the lake, and we were on a grassy knoll looking down into the shimmering blue diamond surface of the lake. I sat up as well, turning to look at him.  
"I feel like it's okay to roll around in the grass forever," he said in the same steady voice. I smiled.

"It is."

"It's really not, but that doesn't seem matter right now. There is no war. There is no reason for war. There is only this, right now; that's all we can control." And he laid back down. I sat staring into the shimmering water, watching Blaise lounge on a rickety-looking dock and drag his toes along the surface. I wiped my hand over my forehead and then stood up. Draco took no notice as I loped lazily back towards the castle. Without my directing them, my feet beat the path towards the library. I smirked when I saw where I'd turned up, and slipped inside.

I wound around several book cases before I found her, sitting at a table with her legs crossed at the knee, pouring over another book. I came up behind her and leaned over her shoulder.

"Potions again?" I asked in her ear and she jumped. I chuckled and walked around the table to take the seat across from her.

"Not today," she answered loftily, snapping the book shut. My eyes flicked over the cover.

"The Salem witch trials?" I asked and she nodded. "Is that History of Magic reading?"

"It's just reading," she answered coldly and I laughed out loud. She looked at me in a surprised way and then glanced back down at her book.

"You should read it, if you don't know the story," she said briskly, with a nod. "It's terribly interesting."

"Do I make you nervous, Granger?" I asked, watching her. She looked up at me again, her brow creased.

"Of course not," she said, not quite meeting my eyes. One corner of my mouth twitched up into a half-grin and I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest and studying her closely.

"So, do you do anything other than read?" I asked. She frowned. "Do you play chess?" I continued.

"Not often," she said. I laughed again, and again it seemed to catch her off guard.

"You should play chess with me some time. I'll teach you how to win the game," I offered, smirking. She met my challenge with a level stare and a little smile of her own.

"I don't need you to teach me, I know perfectly well how to play," she said.

"Well enough to win? I doubt it," I countered and she scoffed.

"Okay, I take the bait, you're on. I just hope you're not a sore loser, but knowing you, that's asking too much." I laughed again, but with less humor.

"Willing to bet on it?" I asked and she raised an eyebrow.

"Want to bet one of those expert potions you're brewing?" My jaw nearly fell into my lap--Granger with a taste for potion?

"What do I get if you lose?" I said softly, watching her. She stared back at me. I smiled.

"I'll tutor you in the art of potion making, once a week," I proposed. She opened her mouth to argue and I held up a hand.

"Hey, you know what they say. Give a man a fish..." With that I stood and wandered back out into the hallways to gather my things before Potions.

A/N: I've always sort of had this idea that potions would be the drugs of Harry Potter world, and what vast potential there would be in that avaliability. So I decided to explore it here.


	3. the longlegged brunette

Through-out Potions, the tension was palpable. She had to walk past my desk to get supplies from the student store cabinet, and whenever she did she shot me a look from beneath her eyelashes, and a smile. If it wasn't such a conflicting idea, I'd have believed she was bona-fide flirting with me.

That night at dinner I couldn't keep my eyes off of her, and much to my frustration she seemed to be completely aware of my predicament. She glanced at me nearly as often as I glanced at her, her eyes shining in something of a wicked way. I cleared my throat and looked away, tuning back in to Blaise's droning monologue on why England's Quidditch team was not up to scratch this year and staring into my steak-and-kidney pie.

Looking up from my plate, I found Draco watching me. When our eyes met, his mouth twitched in what might have been a smile and he leaned forward.

"I'm sneaking a couple of Ravenclaw 7th years into the common room tonight," he said and I raised an eyebrow. "They've heard a lot about your considerable potion-brewing skills, so I invited them over for a sample."

"I don't give samples," I said, tearing a bite off a roll and popping it into my mouth. He grinned.

"I think you'll bend the rules," he said before twisting in his chair and scanning the Ravenclaw table. His gaze landed on two long-legged brunettes I knew by body but not by name, and he raised his hand in a lazy wave. They smiled and giggled and tossed their hair and fluttered and sighed and finally waved back. I made a face, and when Draco turned around and saw my expression, he laughed.

"I'm not sure I see what's in it for me," I said in a sarcastic drawl, picking at my potatoes with the prongs of my fork.

"Hey now, don't judge a book by it's cover," he countered and I looked back over at the Ravenclaw table.

"I haven't got a problem with the cover," I replied, my eyebrows shooting up slightly when the brunette with long pigtails winked at me. I looked back at Draco and he was smirking. I shrugged.

"I don't see what it could hurt," I said and he nodded and took an apple tart from the dessert tray that had appeared between us.

x

Again that night I found myself sprawled in a lumpy armchair, my feet propped on the ornate coffee-table. I was reciting potion ingredients in my head to keep my mind off of Granger, and it would have worked if it didn't remind me of the possibility of tutoring her. I smirked, despite myself. I'd convinced the top witch in the class to swallow her pride and consider taking extra lessons. From me. I knew it must be rankling her something awful. I thought of the stubborn set of her chin and leaned my head back, gazing up at the green-tinged stone ceiling.

It was very late. The common room had been empty for an hour, and Draco had disappeared thirty minutes ago to fetch the girls. I shoved my fingers through my heavy hair. I was hoping to drown these sudden, unfamiliar feelings with the old song and dance--oblivion and ecstacy. Nameless, faceless, no strings attached. I was back on familiar turf. I knew how to play this situation well; I'd been practicing vigilantly, after all. But something was unsettled inside of me that I didn't particularly want to acknowledge. I felt guilty.

Frowning, I stood and paced the floor restlessly. I knew, logically, that I was tied to no one and well within my means to do what I chose with myself, (and others, for that matter), but her face haunted me. Somehow, nearly over-night, she'd become the voice in my head. For a long time I'd watched her, torn between dislike for her prissy attitude and exaggerated sense of morals but still drawn to the way she wore a skirt so damn well. It hadn't ever been anything but a reluctant physical attraction, and a bit of challenge I couldn't resist. Now, though I hated to admit it, there was something else. There was something in the way she looked at me...

I turned as I heard the common room door swing open, and stood staring as Draco led the two girls in blindfolded. They were giggling. I found it difficult to keep from making the same face I'd made at dinner.

"Sorry girls, couldn't have you spilling the secret of where we're hidden," he said with a smirk and a glance at me. I rolled my eyes.

He waved his wand and the blindfolds were gone. The girls clutched each other slightly, twittering.

"Draco, you can trust us," the shorter of the two practically purred, curling herself around him. Of course, I knew what she obviously did not--Draco trusted no one. Neither did I, it was just a good habit; better safe than sorry.

"Hi Pansy," the other breathed, moving across the room to sit on the arm of the chair I'd previously occupied. I nodded, looking at Draco.

"I'll be right back with the party, then," I said, disappearing down the hallway towards my dorm.

I pulled my stash of bottles from beneath my bed, flicking through them quickly. I slipped three of the regular concoction into my pants pocket and then picked up a smaller vial full of swirling, sparkling green. I frowned for a second, thinking. Then, in one fluid motion, I unstoppered it and tossed the entire potion to the back of my throat. Rasping, I turned and went quickly back towards the common room.

"How're you feeling?" I whispered into the ear of the girl perched on my armchair an hour later. I'd learned her name was Heather, but it wasn't Heather I was seeing. Peeking out from a curtain of curls was the face of Hermione Granger, smiling a bit stupidly but otherwise a carbon copy. My eyes were, of course, playing tricks on me due to the effects of my own brew, but my interest in the girl had certainly spiked. It was perhaps a bit unethical, but I couldn't see the harm in it. At any rate, I was too far gone to care. The Granger-copy giggled again, much to my disdain, and slid from the arm of my chair into my lap. She let her head fall onto my shoulder and looked up at me.

"I feel so happy," she said and I looked down at her, catching a curl between my fingers and twirling it. Her eyes grew dark and she leaned closer. I studied her face. I'd already forgotten the details of her genuine apperance, but the change had certainly been an improvement as far as I was concerned. Without a twinge of guilt, I slid my arm around her waist and kissed her roughly. She responded immediantly, her body melting against mine and her tongue flicking out to meet mine. Our combined haze overtook everything, tangling us together in a deliciously tight knot. I let myself get carried away, fisting my hands in her hair hungrily.

In the cloud of everything, I saw her stand and watched her skirt swish back and forth into the darkness of the dormitory hallway. With tunnel vision, I rose and floated after her.

x

Groaning, I rolled over, blinking against the sunlight rushing in through the enchanted windows. I threw my arm over my eyes and felt my hand land against someone else's skin. Opening my eyes, I rolled back over and found myself staring at the doll-faced brunette, still dozing peacefully but with a slight snore. Dragging a hand over my face and then up through my hair, I shook my head. Sliding out of bed to find myself naked, I thanked the stars that the room had already emptied and ducked under the bed to pull my trunk out and retrieve a pair of faded and threadbare boy jeans and a worn red t-shirt that slinked over my flat torso. The pants rode low and baggy on my narrow hips, so I leaned down to fish a belt from the tangle of Muggle clothes I kept in the trunk.  
"Good morning," I heard a high, whispery voice say and I closed my eyes before straightening up, a canvas belt clutched in one hand.

"Happy Saturday," I said, tugging the belt through the loops on my pants and fastening it. I could feel her watching me.

"You look yummy," she said with an obnoxious giggle and I glanced up at her, smiling slightly.

"Why, thank you gorgeous," I replied. I figured there wasn't much need to be rude, but visions from the previous night were swimming through my head and making me anxious to get down to breakfast and catch a glimpse of the real Hermione. "Breakfast?" I suggested and she stretched like a cat.

"Mmm, sounds good," she replied, apparently unabashed of her complete nakedness. Granted, she didn't have much to be self-concious of, I thought to myself as my eyes roved over her figure. She saw me looking and grinned.

"Then again, I'm always up for breakfast in bed," she whispered throatily and I hesitated only slightly before the shallower end of my brain pool won out. I reached down and grabbed her ankles, pulling her to the edge of the bed and standing between her legs. She let out a little squeal of surprise, but recovered quickly and leaned up, wrapping herself around me and pulling me down with her.


	4. check

Later, I walked into Potions to find a chess knight on my desk. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Hermione busily organizing ingredients next to her cauldron, a slight smirk on her face. It was a challenge I readily accepted, dropping my bag at my feet and slinking down into the chair, staring at the miniature knight. The horse shook its mane, its nostrils flaring. It was the member of a wizard chess set, anxious in the face of battle. I picked it up between my fingers and studied it for a second and then slid it into my bag.

I set about readying my cauldron, conjuring a ball of flame to hover beneath it and provide heat. I read the instructions on the board and scooped to retrieve the needed ingredients from my bag. I was pushing aside books looking for my store of valerian roots when I head Slughorn clear his throat.

"No homework for the top in the class," he said in a jolly voice, then proceeded to bounce around the class as the students got to work. Draco fell into the chair next to me, looking haggard. I glanced at him.

"You look like you had a long night," I said, smirking. He shot me a sideways look and then unpacked his materials with a wave of his wand.

"I need a picker-upper," he muttered. I frowned into my cauldron, adding a dash more asphodel. I was aware there had been a serious upswing in the amount of potion he was taking--it wasn't as if I could ignore it when I was supplying the habit. But he'd never harbored a dependence on getting high the way he seemed to now.

"Can you help me out?" he persisted in a low voice. I studied him for a minute and then shrugged.

"Sure, mate," I said, pulling a small vial from under my cloak and passing it to him. There was no way I could bring up a concern without coming off as hypocritical, and he'd be certain to point out that fact. I stirred my potion slowly, and for the first time in days found the intrusion of Hermione-related thoughts a welcome distraction.

The knight was an obvious invitation to the promised chess game, but I wasn't sure how to accept. I hadn't yet been faced with the obstacle of trying to talk to her in public, and hadn't the slightest idea of how to approach it. Draco would mostly likely have some questions. On the other hand, if I waited until I caught her alone she'd know why, and that wasn't likely to impress her.

My brow was furrowed as I studied the contents of my cauldron lightening to a pale shade of purple. Slughorn was suddenly behind me, hopping pompously on the balls of his feet.

"Very good, Ms. Parkinson," he trilled. "Ideal color for this stage of the brewing process." I froze in the act of nodding at his next words.

"Ah, Ms. Granger, look here won't you? This is the lilac I spoke of, and you can of course see the difference against your own's plum color." He gave a little laugh and my eyes flicked up to find Hermione, stilled in mid-stride and looking down into my cauldron with a pained expression. I caught her eye and grinned. She narrowed her eyes, looking away.

"Yes, sir, I see what you mean," she said, tossing a stray ringlet over her shoulder and the moving on to the wastepaper bin. Slughorn continued his bouncing among the other students and as she walked back past I acted on impulse.

"Granger," I called as she passed me. Again she stopped mid-step and looked at me over her shoulder.

"After dinner, in the library," she said before walking back to her desk. I could feel Draco looking at me. When I turned towards him, his eyes were slightly glazed but the sneer of disgust was unmistakeable. Then he blinked and turned back to his potion.

I bent my head over my own, watching it swirl transparent. It was a watery shade of palest purple, fading quickly of all color and becoming clear. I leaned back in my chair, chewing on the corner of my lip. That had solved my problem pretty easily, but I hadn't been able to avoid Draco's unpleasant surprise and I knew it would come up later, when his head had cleared.

Slughorn gave Potter top marks and I snarled slightly, jabbing at my desk with my wand and sending the contents flying back into my bag, the potion within vanished away.

At the end of class, Draco and I headed together towards Transifguration. He was in a world of his own, and I slunk along beside him with my hands deep in my pockets and my head down. As far as I was concerned, dinner couldn't come and go quick enough.

Taking our seats in McGonagall's clasroom, I was extracting my spellbook from my bag when Draco finally spoke.

"What business do you have with that Mudblood?" he asked in a cold voice. I sat back upright and frowned at him. He raised his thin eyebrows, his eyes glinting.

"What business is that of yours?" I countered. He studied me for a minute, looking almost like a stranger.

"Just remember, Parkinson. You're either with us, or you're against us," he said snidely. I stared as he sat back in his chair and flipped open his book with finality as McGonagall rose from behind her desk to commence class.

x

I didn't talk or eat much during dinner and rose to leave early, catching Hermione's eye as I went. I ducked into the relatively silent Great Hall and made immediately for the library. It was deserted with all the students at dinner, and for once I understood the reverence of the place, its need for quiet. It was like I could hear the books whispering their stories to one another, pages rustling, words paper-thin. I made my way along the shelves, running my long fingers over the dusty spines of ancient volumes. My hand rested on a thinner book, its leather cover a faded, fatigued shade of brown. Pressed in gold along the spine, it said _Salem._ I smiled slightly and slid it from its place, cracking the stiff pages as I opened it.

"It's got a terrible ending," I heard and I raised my head to find Hermione standing near my elbow, looking down over my shoulder at the book. When I turned towards her she seemed to realize the closeness of our proximity and took a couple of fast steps backwards. I chuckled.

"Someone told me it was a good read," I said with a shrug, pushing it back onto the shelf and then winding back through the bookshelves to the tables for student use in the back. The candles flickered dimly in the dark, musty air, and when I sat she took the seat across from me. From inside my cloak I pulled a small, fold-up wooden chess board and my chessmen. I began to set up the game.

"Do you have your own set of men?" I asked and she laid a small box on the table, opening it rather timidly.

"Well, they're Ron's and they're ancient but he said they would work just fine for me," she said, picking each man out and putting it in its square.

"So, did I hear you were having a little trouble in Potions today?" I asked in a breezy way, squaring off my last pawn. I saw her jaw tighten.

"I don't believe you got top marks either, Pansy," she said with a look of concentration at her chessmen's formation, setting them in motion. I countered a few of her early attacks easily, dancing around the board with her. When she took my bishop, my queen dragged her knight by its neck off the board and she raised her eyebrows at me. I grinned as her old knight sat blearily on the table, catching his breath. My queen took his place.

"I got better marks than you did," I finally muttered, a bit childishly. "And anyway, I don't care. That's what this excercise is all about. Helping you get used to losing," I finished with a smirk and she set her rook rather brutally at one of my stray pawns, which put up an excellent struggle but was, at length, tossed unceremoniously aside.

"I'm not likely to sink to your level," she quipped. I laughed.

"You need to relax, Granger," I said, and then glanced back down at the game. "Oh, look here, you've moved that mean little rook right in way of my queen." And I took it. She exhaled hard through her nose and narrowed her eyes, focusing.

As war ensued, I was actually surprised at her analytical skill. She obviously was not a seasoned pro, but had the look of several hours hard practice recently obtained and of course already well-versed in the ways of logical elimination. This combined made her enough of a threat to keep me on my toes, but still the pile of her conquered chessmen grew. My queen had fought a bloody trail to the back line, and even as Hermione all but cheered her players on, I took them one by one until...

"Checkmate," I said. Her hair was getting frazzled, and she looked slightly like an angry bull. She pushed a curl off of her forehead and moved her king a square away, to temporary safety. I chased her around the board for a couple of minutes before cornering her slowly.

"What were the terms of our bet again?" I asked with a coy smile and she observed the position she was in. "I believe you wanted to try something out of my potion stores." Her cheeks turned slightly pink.

"And I, on the other hand, would tutor you in the art. See, I don't know what you're running from because as far as I can see you're in a win/win situation. You did put up an excellent struggle though, I must say," I said as my knight moved at last to take her king.

"Check," I finished and she flung herself back into her chair, glaring at me.

"Now, don't be a bad sport because I tell you what I'll do," I said, slipping my hand into my pocket and extracting a vial. Inside the glass, soft blue clouds swirled. "I'll still uphold my end of the bargain," I reached out to hand her the vial, "if you'll do the same."

She looked at me hard for a minute, and I could almost feel her thinking. If she took the potion and the extra lessons, it would mean admitting she could learn something from me which involved a lot of swallowing her pride. But she was smart enough to know she _could_ learn from me, and from the look on her face she was highly interested in the little blue clouds.

"What is it?" she asked, nodding at the glass i still held out in my hand.

"A Dreaming Draught," I said, twirling it between my fingers. "It transports you into your dreams at night. Take it before bedtime." She sat upright slowly, taking it from me and looking it over.

"That is unbelievably advanced magic," she said softly, looking up at me. I nodded.

"Now, I can get Slughorn to lend me the Potions room on Saturday. Meet me there after lunch for your first lesson," I said, standing to leave, then looking down at her.

"Oh, and Granger," I said quietly. "Sweet dreams."


	5. the dream sequence

I didn't linger in front of the fire that night but turned in early, slipping between the cool bedsheets with a private little smile. I stared into the darkness, considering that twice now I'd gone to extreme lengths just to get close to her. Though normally my pride would buck even the idea of such an act of desperation, I seemed to have developed a _craving_ for the sound of her voice, for the jolt in my stomach at the sight of her, and my desire overrode the self-disgust. I didn't let myself dwell on the moral question of my actions, but instead picked up the vial of potion I'd laid on the bedside table. The same cloudy wisps of blue that swirled in the glass I'd given Hermione swirled now in my hand. It would complete the spell, allowing me to step into her dreams as well without her realizing anything was amiss. I ignored the blatant invasion of privacy, so hungry was I to dip into her imagination unguarded and taste what lay beneath the prim, unruffled surface. I'd made up my mind long ago to win her over one way or another, and after the recent torture I'd endured I was willing to employ any means necessary to ease the suffering. And the only way to be sure of her was to explore her subconcious while she was uninhibited and presumably safe inside her own thoughts. To invade that sanctuary would allow me to read her honestly, without the interferece of social pretense or suspicion. It need not escalate to anything other than inquisitive banter between us two if I found her disinterested or disdainful, but...

I smiled in the dark. If instead she was open, friendly, perhaps even flirtatious, I might not be able to or choose to resist exploring her curiosity in hopes of satisfying my own. I had no more control than I ever had over her will, only the advantage of her believed sanctuary that might cause her to experiment without the binding presence of pride or shame. And, masquerading as a figment of her imagination, I could say or do anything without worrying about the consequences.

I had several big questions without answers, and until I knew where she stood I was left immobilized, wondering. I had to be sure she was even able to be won before I initiated open war. My already-wounded pride wouldn't withstand much more disgrace, and pursuing Hermione Granger without a plan or the proper research was almost sure to end in disaster for me whether it succeeded or failed, but the most humiliating possibility was flat rejection.

It had been so easy to plan. When she had first mentioned wanting to try one of my special brews, I figured she was interested in the Euphoria elixir that was my claim to fame. It produced the most traditional 'high' with equal reactions of giddiness and a floating sensation, the combination of which reminded me, personally, of flyaway baloons.

However, as time had stretched between the bet made and the determining game, my preoccupation and subsequent frustration with her had bred diabolical thoughts. I began to realize the advantage I'd gained, the opportunity to abuse my power, and with that perspective a plan had fallen easily into place.  
Now I had only to wait until I knew she'd be asleep to take my own draught, with its necessary altercations that would transport me to her dreams rather than my own. In a matter of minutes I would step through the curtain that seperated the solidity of skin from swirling thought. I would float into her and settle like dust along her dreams. She would see me only as a creation of her imagination, a reflection of memory or preoccupation without substance, and I would get naked insight into her rawest reactions and response.

It was a risk to go after her, I'd known that all along. I wasn't inclined to extend myself to her before measuring exactly my possibilities of success. A rejection would mortally wound my reputation and and my pride, and I wasn't even sure yet that it would be worth it if she _was_ interested.

Furthur investigation was necessary. I glanced at my faintly glowing watch and read that it was after eleven. If I had any handle on Granger, I'd bet her curiosity had lured her to bed early. She was surely asleep by now--the potion was mixed largely with Sleeping Draught, which rendered the user almost immediantly unconscious and allowed the charm to begin immediatly.

I perked an ear to gauge the amount of activity in the dorm outside my bedcurtains, but all was quiet aside from Mincent's rumbling snore. I leaned up on my elbows and uncurled my fist to reveal the small vial silhouetted against my palm in the dark. In one quick motion, I pulled the cork and pressed the vial between my lips, feeling the wispy, wet clouds swirling over my tongue like thunderheads and then raining down my throat. The vapor seemed to roll inside of me and grow until I could not feel the weight of my body or in fact feel anything at all and soon was flying fast and far away from the tangible.

Everything was blue and shining and, still weightless, I was rushing upwards. My head broke the surface of the lake and sunlight showered me like diamonds. Pushing the wet mop of hair out of my face, I squinted around me for a sign of Hermione. I seemed to have landed in a watercolor painting of Hogwarts at springtime. A wash of soft, sunny pastels swept the grounds. Close to the shore was the willow beneath which we'd shared those few tense moments, here in full bloom and blurry, waltzing rather than swaying with the gentle breeze. The world seemed watered down with sunlight, almost transparent and brilliantly bright. The soft, shifting waves and the silence lapped around me and I felt as if my mere presence in this place carried a weight. The grass and the sky and the lake all seemed acutely aware of me, seemed to be whispering and trembling and rushing to meet one another over my apperance here.

Even as a child I couldn't look up at the night sky without feeling the loneliness of space. Often I'd imagined myself as a star, massive and alone, burning on forever in the darkness of infinity. Now, in this hushed absence of life, I felt the terrible isolation of a planet--uncomprimisingly solid and suspended in a vast sea of nothing. I felt at the same time infinitesimal and absolute with nothing but the vapor of thought to be measured against.

Then suddenly, something brushed against my foot and I could feel my own body again for the first time since swallowing the potion. The water seemed to buzz and rock and roll around me and I kicked my rediscovered legs as I turned full-circle, scanning below the surface of the crystal clear lake. There was a shadow circling several feet below me. I splashed and paddled away from it as quickly as I could but the distortion of the water made it hard to pinpoint where or what it was and where it might be going. It was getting bigger, maybe getting closer. I kicked my feet violently to propel myself backwards while keeping both eyes on the advancing threat. Bubbles started to surface a few feet in front of me. I was torn between the hungry curiosity and the thrilling, irrational fear felt most acutely in dreams, but when long fingers clamped around my ankles, my shout of surprise shuddered straight through the thick silence and echoed back at me from the sky.

The grip loosened and the shadow leapt the few feet to the surface and finally took form as Hermione emerged, laughing and shining and wet. She bobbed in front of me with an impish smile, tiny beads of water clinging to her eyelashes and reflected sparkling in her big brown eyes. I took her in for a long moment, how the sun cast a halo around her dripping curls and how her bare shoulders shone like gold above the glistening lake. Then she began to swim slowly around me, splashing languishly but studying me closely all the while. I could almost hear her movements, musically, and the sun seemed to play upon everything around us a lilting, whimsical melody. There was no place here for the words of a language from a more limited world. My presence was so wholly aware of her presence that we seemed to move as one in a fluid dance through the water.

Over some course of time the waves became the shore and as we were swept together onto land I felt the sheer force of gravity return to me at last. In the water I had been the water, and I had been the sky and all I could see with nothing to seperate me from everything.

In the grass, against the surprisingly solid earth, I had again developed substance and limits. Hermione lay beside me and I could no longer feel her heart beating, but if I extended a hand I knew I would feel the warmth and softness of her skin. I could feel each blade of grass that brushed against me or bent under me. I could feel the heat of the sun and the lazy breeze; my sense of touch had not simply returned, it had sharpened considerably. Indeed, the wind that played at my face might well have been the first I'd ever felt, so delicious was the sensation.

With weight returned purpose, and I came to remember suddenly that I hadn't landed here by happy accident. I glanced sidelong at Hermione and then rolled onto my side, looking down at her sundrenched face. She held my gaze in a way she never had before, the nervous energy she carried in reality relaxed away and her face softer for it. In the stare we shared there was an undercurrent of intimacy that took me aback. It seemed now that all I knew of Hermione was in fact only a small fraction, that I'd been foolish to surmise an image of her based on what was now clearly just a public face. The beauty I had so recently become infatuated with, the challenge I had been pursuing, the grounds on which I'd stood before now seemed thin as air and insubstantial. Here, she took my breath away.

For minutes or hours or ages we lay there, staring at one another as though hungry for the sight. In this place where there existed no inhibition and no persecution, there was nothing standing between us. I lifted a hand to brush my thumb across her lips with the lightest touch and they fell open so that I could feel her warm breath against my fingertips. Her eyes never left mine. Without the edge of ice, the disapproving hardness in her glance that I had come to regard as commonplace, she seemed to be stealing the air out of my lungs with her soft and steady stare.

Somehow we'd gotten ever closer together until I found myself inches from the taste I'd been so craving. I hung suspended there for a slow beat, a breath, and her eyes darkened. Her lips trembled. My questions had been answered without going any farther. With that first electrifying touch, I'd known that there was an open door for me somewhere inside of her. There was no resistance or uncertainty in her eyes; indeed they seemed to smolder and shine with a desire that was unabashed and boundless. It seemed clear now that all I wanted was mine to take, an inch away.

The taunt stretch of breathless seconds between us shattered as my lips crushed down onto hers. She trembled and then swelled beneath me, her mouth claiming mine, tasting mine with sweet urgency. There was no longer grass under us or a sky above us, there was no breeze, there was no noise, there was nothing but the two of us, entangled. As if wine rolled over her tongue and spilled from her lips, I drank deeply. I had no sense of time, no sense of anything but her and no need for it; I might have held her for years without becoming satiated. She moved beneath me, as violent as an ocean and as deep. We crashed together like an orchestra, building steadily a beautiful sound and rising towards an overwhelming culimination with frenzy.

Then silence, darkness. I was alone and panting, covered with sweat. I stared for a long time at the inky canopy above me, settling back down into my racing body before pulling the curtains aside to see through the enchanted windows that the sun had begun to rise. A pale light was spreading across the cold stone dormitory. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, bracing my elbows on my knees and resting my head in my hands. I knew there was nothing to go back to, there was only her now. I'd found the open door and I'd burst through it and found something better than any drug, better than air, better than security or pride or reputation and I knew then that there would be no peace for me without Hermione.


	6. the morning after

Draco found me an hour later, glaring into the fireplace. He watched me closely for a minute before taking the seat next to me.

"Well," he drawled thickly, "you're all shook up." My glare swung sideways to land on him and I leaned forward in my seat, propping my elbows on my knees and burying my face in my hands.

"If this has to do with that mudblood..." he started and I gritted my teeth. I knew that I couldn't unload my frustration and my terror even on my closest friend, not for worries of my reputation but for fear of the duel that would ensue if I engaged myself in his bigotry. He was strong and well-versed in war but a thousand armies surged inside my blood for her. I decided quickly to use his weaknesses against him and drew a pair of vials from the pocket of my slacks, tossing one towards him. I tried to ignore the hunger with which he snatched the cork from its secure place and ingested the giddy sensation. I knew the burden he carried, and in my own state of mind I couldn't judge or blame him.

I rolled my vial between my long fingers, watching the firelight glint off its inviting surface. This far into my business ventures I'd managed to keep a distance- certainly indulging in my wares but never relying on them to numb my own inner turmoil. Things were different now. There was a roaring in my head. I felt buried to my ankles in delicious, terribly sweet things. In that moment, I wanted to run. At the same time, I wanted to run until oceans seperated me from the walls of this god forsaken school, and I wanted to run straight to her. I wanted to bust into the Gryffindor dormitory and race up the stairs and fling open her door and gather her up into my arms and smell the lilies in her hair again. Just one more time...but I knew that now I was lost in a world that would always demand one more time, one more glimpse, one more taste, one more night. There was no breaking free of her spell and no desire to do so.

Still, I was torn. There was no easy way to be with her. There might not ever be a way to convince her that we two could come together seamlessly, that it was worth giving up all the relationships and the life that she had built. I couldn't imagine a way in which our current world and the world I craved, sought after, died without could come together. I knew that at least one if not both of us would be forced to fling away the shroud of this well-established, steady life for the watercolor world where we could lay in peace together.

I slowly uncorked the vial, lifting it and running the cool glass rim against my bottom lip, still swollen from Hermione's eager teeth and tongue. I stared into the fire which danced uproariously in its three walls; it chattered with laughter as it tore the logs of so many ancient trees apart and devoured their insides. I felt too well-accquainted with that feeling. I tipped my head back and let the numb wash over my lips, my teeth, my tongue, to find a place to settle in my stomach and stop its churning. Then I hurled the empty vial into the fire and watched an explosion of green sparks scatter across the stone floor at my feet. I could feel Draco watching me and I turned my head slightly away from him. Then I stood in one fluid motion and stalked out of the common room into the pitch black of the dungeons.

I found my way out onto the grounds as the sky was turning a hazy shade of pink. My clouded mind quieted and I felt the delicious wet air rush in and make my lungs new again. I gazed across the lake, my ears filled with my mind's blissfully confused humming. I shoved my hands into my pockets and leaned my head back, staring up at the single, wispy grey cloud that languished by. There was a knot lodged in my throat which I was firmly ignoring. I was also ignoring the murmurs of her voice I'd been imagining since waking up in the empty darkness alone. They were the softest whispers, and I wouldn't have recognized them if I hadn't become so accquainted with the unique tone of her voice in the past few weeks. I felt as though I might very possibly go mad, in fact madness seemed to be turning the edges of my consciousness into static noise, blurred lines, mere impression.

Or maybe it was the drugs.

I heard her say "Pansy," clear as a bell, and I started to grind my teeth. I looked down at my feet and started walking slowly towards the water's edge. With every second, the fuzziness encroached further. Hermione became identifiable to me only as a warm feeling in my stomach, not a name or a face, although I could still smell her. I felt myself drifting comfortably away from the things I didn't understand, the gnawing need I couldn't handle. I treasured the escape.

A few yards away from the lake I felt small, firm fingers close around my elbow and I whirled on my heels in surprise, finding myself face to face with a mess of curls and imploring brown eyes. Her face was sweet and trembling, and I felt something ugly and desperate rise in my throat like bile.

"Pansy," I heard floating through the fog, but I couldn't quite make the connection between her face and her voice. I pulled my arm away, fearful and out of place. I pushed past her and walked swiftly up the hill to the castle, once again hearing only the roaring in my ears.


	7. far away

The Great Hall buzzed with the excited voices of hundreds of students, but it was no match for the buzz between my ears. I couldn't place myself, or figure out exactly who "myself" was, and Draco was in a similar state. We stared at each other across the table, our dinners untouched, communicating silently about the serious potency of this particular batch of potion. Everything that moved around us was a blur, and after a dozen or so seemingly endless minutes we rose in wordless unison and made our way through the tangle of students and out of the double doors. I felt a specific pair of eyes burning into my back, and just before stepping out of the Great Hall I glanced back over my shoulder and immediately found that pair of brown eyes. A jolt rushed through me, but the haze in which I was suspended kept the full force of the feeling from finding its way home. She looked to me like a delicious, intruiging stranger and I felt my heart tug the way it might towards a newly found soul mate. In the next moment, I was out of the hall and following Draco's narrow frame into the dimly lit passage leading to the dungeons. I knew without asking where we were going and what we would do there, but my normally logical mind was gone without a trace and I was starving for more numb without knowing why. I barely knew who I was. I stared down at my hands and found them skeletal and strange.

"Pansy" floated again and again like an echo through my brain, familiar without my knowing even who Pansy might be at that moment. It was the voice that was so familiar, that felt like home, not the name. My insides began to churn as we stepped into the common room, and my feet led me to my room, to my stash, and I threw a handful of glass into the inside pocket of my cloak. I found Draco in his abandoned dormitory, and flung myself across the foot of his four-poster. He grinned fiendishly down at me as I lined six tiny bottles out in front of him. Each was a different swirling mass of color. It didn't seem to matter which was which. We each grabbed one and did away with it quickly, laughing as we lay on our backs and stared up into his dark green canopy. The effect of this particular potion began to pound over my limp frame like so many angry waves, and I felt giddy as I drowned in the warm, smooth silence. We traded empty words that slowly slurred and became incoherent. Draco rolled the remaining four vials back and forth under his palm. I laughed weakly and turned onto my side, watching him.

"Death wish," I muttered as he chose a deep red one and tossed me a pale green. I stared into the glass and felt a twinge of recognition that came and faded in a second. Shrugging, I clumsily unstoppered the solution and swirled it in my hand. His choice already lay empty on the bed, and his smile faded as his body went limp. Laying flat, he stared up at the ceiling with blank eyes. I laughed and it sounded metallic and thin. I felt hazy, but I also felt the driving urge to keep receding, to keep forgetting, and so I threw back my brew and closed my eyes, letting the sensation settle over me. After a few long moments of no more than a light tingle around my eyes and in my finger tips, I opened my eyes and felt the blood in my veins go cold. Where Draco had been, there was a pile of brown curls...and those eyes! As I watched the beautiful brown pools stare, completely empty, I felt a terror I couldn't understand. I leapt to the other end of the bed and grabbed her frail shoulders in my insistent hands, shaking her roughly and then pulling her to me. She recoiled in surprise, her eyes narrowing as her brows snapped together.  
"Are you freaking out?" her gentle voice demanded harshly. Her hand waved in front of my face. I stared at her, blinking slowly, panic vibrating along my nerve endings. Then, without warning, I crumpled, covering my face with my shaking hands.

"Pansy..." Pansy, Pansy, Pansy. The sickeningly beautiful familiar echo reverberated in my head, louder and louder until my temples were bursting. I let out a strangled scream and leapt up from the bed. "Hey!" She reached out for me, but her face was changing, melting somehow into something alien that repulsed me. I rushed out of the room, unsure of my destination but flying from the dungeons as though the fire inside of me were actually chasing me, burning my feet as I fled.

I found the library somehow in the darkness without being detected. I could feel the warm spot in my stomach dragging me on, leading me and protecting me. I ran my hands through my already wild and tangled hair, my heart racing. I could feel a familiar mind rising up out of my self-induced haze, but I felt like a lost and horribly frighted child seeking the only comfort known to me. Then I rounded the corner and found it in a golden pool of candlelight, bent over a thick and ancient tome.

Painfully delicious brown eyes crashed into me, widening at my dissheveled appearance and my tortured stare.

"Pansy?" came the sweet familiar sound, and the persistent knot in my throat dissolved in one cold rush.

"Who are you?" I mumbled. "What's wrong with me?" I braced my hands on the tabletop and shook my head, but couldn't break free of the fog.

"What? What did you take?" she said, her voice distant and stern. I felt a world stretch between us, I felt utterly alone and freezing and terrified with the withdrawl of her warmth. I raised my eyes to hers, which only softened slightly when she saw the wild confusion there.

"Pansy..."

"Stop saying that," I snarled. "I don't even know what that means." I knocked one of the two candles she was burning into the floor, igniting the centuries-old rug. She leapt to her feet and pushed past me.

"_Aguamenti!" _she cried, and a jet of water burst from her wand and doused the flame. I stumbled back against the nearest bookshelf and slid down to the floor, resting my forehead on my knees.

"You need to go back to your common room," she said quietly. "You shouldn't have taken so much," she muttered, kneeling down in front of me. I tilted my head up slightly so that I could just see her over the tops of my knees. She met my gaze for a long moment, and then reached for my arm. "Come on," she said, attempting to pull me to my feet. I pulled my arm away.

"Just leave me alone," I groaned softly. I had heard that voice in my head all day, until I was nearly mad with hearing it, and I still couldn't understand why it destroyed me so or who she was to force such a reaction out of me. "Please," I whispered hoarsely.

"Pansy," she started, reaching for me again. I shoved her away and leapt to my feet. My heart was pounding in my skull. Pansy, Pansy, Pansy.

"Leave me the fuck alone," I snapped desperately before turning and running blindly out of the library. The beating of my feet against the stone floor matched the unbearable beating of my heart. I turned down the path to the dungeons and ran headlong into a cloud of black robes. I fell to the ground and stayed there, fisting my hands in my hair.

"Parkinson?" came a slightly surprised voice, and I looked up into a vaugely familiar pale face, long hooked nose and sheet of black hair. "What are you doing out of bed at this hour?" he asked. I couldn't speak, I just shook my head weakly.

"Get to your feet, come on," he said briskly, swooping down and pulling my weak bundle of limbs upright. Without another word, he guided me to the common room by my elbow. In the dim light from the torches burning along the walls, he studied my face and raised his thick black eyebrows. I averted my gaze but realization had dawned over his features.

"Right, well, I'll send for you in the morning so we can discuss this," he said, reaching into his cloak. "Here." He thrust a glass vial into my hand and I groaned as my stomach lurched. I tried to give it back, shaking my head, but he would not take it. "Drink it," he said firmly, "it will do you a world of good. You've been ridiculously foolish, you're torn out of your frame."

"No more...potion..." I murmured. He snatched the vial back, pulled out the cork, and pushed it between my lips, dumping the contents down my throat. The haze cleared immediately, replaced by a weariness deep in my bones.

"Now go sleep it off," said the man I was now horrified to recognize as Snape. "We'll talk in the morning." Then he was gone, and I slunk into the darkness of the common room.

I'd nearly reached the staircase that lead up to my room when I heard movement behind me and turned. I knew it was Draco even though I could only see his silhouette against the dying embers of the fireplace. He stepped closer to me and I saw that his eyes were dark and far away.

"He's going to kill me," he said hoarsely, and I frowned. My body was exhausted, and my mind reacted sluggishly to his words.

"What?" I asked, searching his face with my eyes.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," he said wildly, staring around himself. I grabbed his shoulders and he let his head drop. I was shocked to feel his framed wracked with sobs. I pushed him lightly into a nearby chair.

"Stay right here," I said and rushed to my dormitory. I sorted through my trunk until I found a small collection of sleeping draughts I'd made for rough nights, nights like these. Grabbing one, I half-ran back to the common room where I found Draco muttering to himself, his eyes rolling in his head. "Here," I said, giving it to him. He eyed it greedily and tossed it back, falling instantaneously into a deep sleep. I rubbed my eyes roughly with my index finger and thumb, shaking my head. I'd let things get far too out-of-hand. The entire day was an indecipherable mess in my head. I wasn't even sure what noxious combination we'd created in order to end up in such a state. I pulled my wand from my pocket and cast a hover charm, watching his frail, limp body rise up into the air and float in front of me. I walked him to his room and laid him in his bed, studying him for a long moment and then shaking my head and dragging my exhausted body to my own four-poster, collapsing into a deep, black, silent sleep.


	8. the kiss

I woke after only a couple of hours of restless sleep to a grey, forbidding morning. I sat up, leaning back against the headboard and staring out into the grounds without seeing. Snippets of the day before were drifting into my conscious mind, and the churning was starting in my stomach all over again. I dreaded seeing Hermione even more than my appointment with Snape. I ran my hands through my hair, and then stood and started pacing. My eyes found my trunk and I felt a strong urge to reach in and find something to take the edge off, but I firmly pulled myself out of the room and down the stairs.

"You think I haven't noticed what you're up to," Snape said, eyeing me from behind his desk. "You think I don't know all too well the role you play in this school." I met his gaze nervously. His tone was flat, but not angry. He waited for an excruciatingly long minute and then cracked a very small smile. "I was in your place once, using my talent to supply my friends with mind-numbing concoctions." My mouth fell open slightly in surprise.

"Professor?" He nodded.

"You're a fool to fall into your own trap though, Parkinson," he continued brusquely. "You're also doing a disservice to your closest friends by allowing them to so abuse themselves," he said pointedly. I looked down at my hands in my lap and cleared my throat. "Draco needs you more than your potions right now-he needs someone he can talk to."

"I don't know how to help him...I'm afraid," I said, my voice raw. Snape stood and walked over to his fireplace, staring down into the flames.

"Stop supplying his habit," he said softly.

"I'm not sure he'll take no for an answer-he's not nearly as good at potions and I'm afraid that if I stop giving him what he wants he'll just attempt to duplicate my recipes and end up doing himself serious damage." Snape looked over his shoulder at me.

"If I find out that you have given him anything, even a tonic for the hiccups, it's detention."

"But Professor-"

"After that, expulsion," he snapped, turning his back on the fire and staring down his nose at me. "That's all Parkinson."

Transfiguration passed in a matter of seconds, it seemed, and before I knew it I was taking a seat in the back of Potions. She was at the front table with Potter, setting out supplies. I watched her, sheepish and hungry at the same time. After only a minute of my eyes on her she turned and looked directly at me. I felt a small jolt of fear at the determined, empty look in her eyes. I looked away, busying myself with my ingredients until Slughorn entered the room and began class.

I slunk out of the classroom as soon as we were dismissed. Draco headed towards the Great Hall, having complained through-out Potions about the shape his body was in after the very trying night we'd had.

"I can't wait for stew," he grumbled, glancing over his shoulder at me. "Are you coming?"

"I'm going to go drop off my stuff," I said, heading off towards the dungeons without waiting for his response. The halls were largely deserted as students rushed to their lunches with unhampered appetites. The thought of sustenence made the grinding in my stomach increase exponentially. I made my way blindly towards the common room, caught entirely off guard when someone rushed towards me and turned me forcibly around. I was staring down at Hermione.

"What is going on Pansy?" she asked, her voice shrill and angry. She had me half-cornered in a small hallway off the main path, and her expression seemed especially twisted in the distorting light of the single torch.

"Well hello Granger," I said with an attempt at indifference.

"Don't Granger me Pansy, what are you trying to do to me?" she asked, stepping toward me threateningly, causing me to step back. My back found the solid stone.

"To you?" I asked with meek surprise. My hands were shaking. Her eyes searched mine furiously as she shoved both hands into her tangles of hair, pushing them away from her face.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, her tone rising even higher. I had to laugh harshly at the loaded answer to her question. She hit my chest with her palm, and I felt the wall behind the tapestry against which I was pinned give way. I stumbled into a dark stairway and she stormed in after me.

"Hermione," I said, my voice breaking, shaking my head. "Look, I'm sorry, I know I've been...out of it." I rubbed my hands over my face and sighed.

"You're sorry?" she half-shrieked. "Sorry for what, for invading the privacy of my dreams?" she spat. I jerked my head up and looked at her, fear flooding deep in my stomach and down my legs, making my knees shake and nearly buckle. "Sorry for haunting my every waking fucking thought? Sorry for taking over my life? Sorry for making me feel all of this and then telling me you don't even know who I am, pushing me away? What are you so sorry for, Pansy, isn't this what you wanted, to get inside my head with me and mess with me, to prove that you could?" I stared at her, almost drowning in her bittersweet words. My mouth fell open but my throat was shut tight; I couldn't speak, I couldn't even think of what to say. She was glaring into my eyes, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her fists clenched. I shook my head, looking her up and down in disbelief, swallowing roughly around the lump which had come flying back to lodge itself firmly in my throat all over again.

"I-" I started, then faltered. She shook her head, turning away from me sharply and making to leave. Suddenly my body leapt into action and I flung myself towards her, grabbing her waist and turning her forcibly to face me. She gasped in surprise as I pressed her back into the wall and covered her mouth with my starving own. I groaned against her softness as her lips parted and I could taste her, a thousand times sweeter than in the dream, a thousand times sweeter than anything I'd ever tasted before. The essence of Hermione flooded into me, poured over my tongue and quenched an insatiable thirst I hadn't even been aware of, though I'd lived with it always. Her cheeks were wet as her lips moved against mine, her arms wrapping themselves around my shoulders and pulling me closer for a brief moment before the tapestry swung and she was gone. I leaned both hands against the wall where she had just been and hung my head, the sweetness still lingering on my tongue.


	9. rooks and crooks and pawns

When I finally made it into the Great Hall for lunch, Draco caught my eye and waved me over. I scanned the Gryffindor table and was surprised and disappointed to find it lacking a mop of curls and an uptight disposition. The corner of my mouth twitched into a tiny smile, the first to find my face in days. I knew that I was doomed, there was no eradicating her from my thoughts now, but I was perfectly content. My questions had been answered and I was prepared to sacrifice anything, everything, to be able to find her and lay my head in her lap and breathe her in. My lips split into a grin as I plopped down next to Draco and began shoveling stew onto my plate. He watched me wryly.

"Got your appetite back I see," he smirked, reaching across the table to grab a roll and toss it to me.

"And you," I countered, nodding at his plate which was still heaping despite the fact that I was fifteen minutes late to lunch and he'd been steadily tucking in.

"Nothing takes the edge off like a warm meal," he said, swallowing a huge spoonful of meat and potatoes. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and grinned. "Well, almost nothing."

"Nothing," I corrected, going to work on my own lunch. My conflicting emotions over Draco and his drug use were pale and insignificant in the brilliant, uplifting light of a world where Hermione's taste was still lingering around my lips. He grumbled something in response but I couldn't make it out.

"Good stew," I grunted around a mouthful. I looked up to find Blaise watching me with mild disdain and grinned widely. He snorted and looked away.

"I think we're in need of a brilliant party in the common room tonight. We've got fire whiskey lined up, and I assume we can look to you for additional party favors Parkinson?" he asked, glancing back at me. I shrugged.

"I'm running low, haven't had time to work on a new brew," I mumbled into my plate.

"Well there's plenty of time between now and eleven thirty, isn't there?" Draco drawled, watching me.

"I've got a study session," I asserted somewhat lamely. Draco raised a thin pale eyebrow.

"A study session with a skirt?" he sneered, chuckling. "You can bring her along, more the merrier you know." I let out a harsh-sounding laugh and shook my head.

"Not tonight," I said, swallowing my last spoonful of stew and swinging my legs over the bench, standing up quickly.

"Come on," Draco started but I snatched my bag up and waved quickly.

"Got to head to the library, I'll see you later mate," I said rather loudly, heading off without waiting for a response. I could feel Draco's eyes following me but I didn't turn around, I just shoved through the double doors and made my way out onto the grounds.

Once again my eyes started their search—I was determined to find her. I needed to talk to her about where we stood. There were very few people outside and I exhaled sharply in frustration before turning on my heel and making my way to the library.

I prowled through each bookcase, growing more exasperated with each minute I didn't find her. My heart felt like it had been cut into slices and she had taken the biggest one—there was an aching emptiness in my chest. I was becoming so familiar with this feeling of desperation I'd never experienced before, and it left me unnerved. I knew that I was on a completely separate playing field from anything I'd known before. Rather than the aloof, commitment-phobic hound my reputation made me out to be, I was lightheaded and famished for the sight of her. I wasn't well acquainted with these fuzzy feelings, and the longer I had to endure them while away from her, the darker my mood became.

I went to storm out of the library, but as I was approaching the doors, the world crashed to a stop as she pushed through the thick, ancient oak doors and froze at the sight of me. We stood staring at one another, suspended in uncertainty, until I finally forced myself to take a step towards her. She looked defiant and intrigued at the same time, and I wanted to laugh at her tremulous expression, though I wouldn't dare.

"I'm just…" she started.

"Here to read?" I finished sarcastically, glancing around us and then cracking a grin, letting my gaze settle over her and soak her in. She shifted her books against her lovely round hips nervously. "You know we've got to talk," I said, striding over to her quickly and taking her arm. "Come on."

She didn't even bother to protest, though she looked over her shoulder at her sanctuary before I led her around the corner and up a narrow staircase hidden behind another tapestry.

When we came out in the quiet of the owlery, she let out a small, surprised laugh and walked to the edge, looking out over the grounds.

"I didn't know about that passage up here," she said, turning to face me and leaning back against the rail behind her. I nodded, clearing a relatively clean spot on the floor of its feathers so she could set down her bag, which she did happily. I raised my eyes to study her. She averted her gaze uncomfortably, looking out at the lake that glistened far below us.

"So," I said, my voice rougher than I expected it to be.

"So," she repeated without looking away from the lake. I pushed my hair out of my eyes and frowned at her slightly.

"So what now?"

She laughed and it caught me off guard. She turned her head back towards me slowly, gazing up into my face.

"I'm supposed to know? I have no idea." I looked at her for a long moment and then let out a snort of laughter. I braced my hands on the rail on either side of her, leaning my face close to hers but dropping my head so that my lips hovered just barely above her shoulder. I shook my head, chuckling quietly to myself. I could feel her frame wound tensely, uneasy energy radiating out so hot that I could feel it. I looked up at her out of the corner of my eyes. She was watching me, breathing shallowly. I pushed away and stepped back, watching her.

"I _do_ make you nervous," I said slowly, quietly. "I think I even ruffle your feathers a little bit, huh?" I asked, smirking. She tossed her hair and scowled at me. I let out a laugh. "Don't worry baby, you're not half as nervous as me." She raised her eyebrows.

"I doubt that somehow," she muttered under her breath. I smiled and walked over next to her, also leaning back against the railing. I snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her close to me, watching an incoming owl soar gracefully on the wind. I felt a few wisps of her long, soft hair brush against my neck, tossed in the slight breeze coming up off the water. My eyes slid almost shut and I caught the slightest trace of her heavenly smell. I breathed deeply and then turned my head to look down at her. She was watching me. I let my eyes drop like weights to her pink rose-petal lips.

She seemed to tremble as her body shifted closer to mine, her slim torso molding itself against me and her breath tickling my chin. I ducked my head, brushing my mouth over hers like a murmur. I felt her exhale, heard the tiny, happy sound in her throat as we kissed, and then was plunged into an unwelcome chill as she stepped away.

"Is there any point to this, Pansy?" she asked, her face suddenly serious. I frowned.

"What?" I asked hazily and then cleared my throat. "A pretty important point, as far as I'm concerned," I said, leaning back and crossing my arms over my chest. She looked out past me, her brow furrowed, her gorgeous thick bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

"Hey," I said softly, watching her. Her eyes found mine. "I know this is complicated. There are a million reasons why we should probably walk away right now." Her eyes darkened slightly. "But I don't want to walk away—I don't think I can." I paused, my throat hoarse. I stared down at my feet, my hair falling across my eyes. "I can't stop thinking about you."

A long, unbearable moment of silence stretched between us.

"Yeah," she said finally, her voice quiet. "I'm familiar with that feeling." I watched her feet shift. My heart was pounding in my throat. "Maybe we should just keep this to ourselves until…"

I laughed.

"Until our friends change their minds about everything and decide to accept it, or we can walk down the halls without both being labeled traitors or we have any idea where we stand in this mad mess?" I shook my head.

"Yes," she said softly. "I want a chance to explore how I feel without having to worry about anyone else. Anyone but you, anyway." She closed the gap between us and reached out uncertainly, her dainty hands spreading out over my hips. I looked up at her. She was watching me, looking slightly terrified. I sighed and leaned my forehead against hers, closing my eyes and breathing her in.

"Okay," I murmured so low that she wouldn't have heard it if we hadn't been sharing the same tiny patch of oxygen and sexual tension.

"Okay," she repeated, her hair falling forward around our faces like a swirling, sweet smelling curtain that effectively blocked out the rest of the world around us. I finally let myself free-fall into her, my chest swelling merely with her presence.


End file.
